Vicodin and Other Addictive Substances
by possumgurl
Summary: Typical House behavior coupled with the angry husband of a patient brings out a strange reaction in Chase. HouseChase SLASH


A/N: Posted on livejournal.

"You are using my wife as a _guinea pig!_"

House scoffed and folded his hands over the top of his cane, meeting the man's fiery gaze with a smirk on his lips, clearly enjoying the amusing situation.

"Now please, Mr. Garner, Doctor House is only trying to do everything possible to ensure your wife's-"

"My wife's _what_ Doctor Cuddy? Hmm? Certain death, is that it?"

House noticed the man's face turning an unbecoming shade of red. He glanced behind the man's head to the door into his own office with an unmistakable look of longing. He wanted Vicodin. He really had no time to listen to the rash assumptions of ignorant people…and to think, all this angry talk in front of his ducklings. Really now.

Chase spoke up from House's right.

"He's doing the right thing. You should listen to him." House subconsciously admired the thick, lazy flow of the Aussie's accent, along with the outright compliment the boy had just paid him. He turned to the other doctor with his smirk still firmly in place.

"Now _Robert_, I had no idea you thought so highly of me." His voice dripped with sarcasm. He saw the annoying man's face turn redder out of the corner of his eye and just managed to catch his eyes beginning to bulge before being distracted as Chase threw his head back and rolled his eyes with a short laugh. House's own eyes widened slightly as the sunlight shining into the corridor from his office window caught the younger doctor's hair. For just a second it was a mottled mass of brilliant gold. It was in that moment that House noticed how very full and red and…full Chase's lips were. He frowned slightly and swung back around to face Cuddy.

"This is a waste of my time. I'm treating his wife. If he moves her, she'll die. If he wants that on his conscience he can roll her damn bed to another doctor. It's not my problem, it's-"

House didn't have time to duck out of the way of the fist that suddenly came flying towards his head at an alarming speed. He set his jaw, preparing for the blow. He saw a flash of movement and heard the sickening crunch of bone meeting bone. He felt nothing. The blow didn't come. He blinked. A figure lay on the ground, knocked out cold. It was Chase.

House felt a ringing in his ears. The tips of his fingers tingled. A rush of amazement flushed through his body, tailed closely by a burst of raw anger. He felt the fingers of his right hand curl of their own accord before his fist lashed out, colliding with the man's jawbone. There was another unpleasant crunch. House's hand hurt like hell. He wanted Vicodin even more now. Blood flowed freely from the other man's split lip, and he moaned, lifting his hand to swipe at it. House's eyelids flickered and he sighed, retracting back into normality. He heard himself speak.

"You shouldn't have touched my duckling."

---

Chase woke up half an hour later in a hospital bed. He felt like shit. He let his eyes ease open slowly, adjusting to the light of the setting sun pouring in through his window. The first thing he noticed, besides the throbbing pain in his head, was how nice the pink-tinged orange light of the sun looked splayed across the white cotton blanket. He followed it with his eyes. The second thing he noticed was House. He was sitting in the bedside chair, which lay in the brilliant path of the sunset. He was leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands, which were once again crossed over the top of his cane. He looked as if he were in a very good mood.

"What are you so happy about? And-" Chase looked amazed. "Why are you…here?"

House put on a look of mock offence.

"What, my youngest duckling doesn't want me checking up on him?" House felt an exhilarating surge of accomplishment rush through him as a brilliant blush inched up the younger man's neck and into his cheeks.

"That's quite a bruise you've got there." House leaned forward purposefully and brushed the hair away from Chase's temple with a slow sweep. He could feel Chase tense below him. He didn't move his hand from its place just below Chase's bruise. He let his fingers drift down to flutter over the blush on the younger doctor's cheek. It deepened even as he watched it.

Chase's eyes slipped closed and a strained noise pushed its way out through his lips. He could feel his heart beating uncontrollably in his chest. When he opened his eyes, he was struck by the intensity of House's piercing blue ones locked with his own.

"Why did you do it?" House replaced both hands on his cane, continuing to hold his penetrating stare.

Chase whimpered and let his eyes slip shut again, his jaw clenching.

House's heart jumped into his throat as he saw how responsive his duckling was to the mere removal of a comforting hand. He let a practiced smirk curl into his lips once again.

"You've taken a punch from an annoying bastard before. I thought I'd give it a try." If possible, Chase's blush grew even deeper.

House scoffed. Rolled his eyes. Twirled his cane.

"Nice try."

Chase sighed and opened his eyes once again to meet House's in a pleading gaze.

"You have the Vicodin…."

House nodded slowly. "Ah…yeah…your point?" He had absolutely no idea where Chase was going with this. He hoped it didn't show.

"You're addicted."

"Um. Yes. But as I've said before, it's _really _not a problem." House tried not to let the completeness of his confusion be heard in his voice.

"Yeah…" Chase looked just about as uncomfortable as it is possible to be. "You see…you're addicted to the Vicodin. When you don't have it, or something happens to it…" Chase trailed off.

Understanding knocked at the back of House's mind. Realization crept over his face in the form of the quintessential smirk of absolute and total accomplishment.

"Say it." House stepped forward, drawing closer to Chase.

Chase looked horrified. Looked as if he had just made the biggest mistake possible to make.

"I can't."

"Chase. Sit up." House's smirk was gleeful.

Chase exhaled and sat up slowly with a grimace, like a man in a great deal of pain. Except that this pain wasn't physical. Mostly. His legs dangled over the edge of the hospital bed. House moved forward until he stood directly in front of the younger doctor. He lifted a finger to trail down a pretty pink cheek. House spoke again. He sounded ecstatic.

"I don't exactly understand what you're trying to say _Robert_. Perhaps you could be more specific."

Chase cringed. House grinned before speaking again.

"Huh. Perhaps a bit of encouragement then."

House lowered his head to capture those full, oh _so_ red and _full_ lips. So soft. He felt his mind go blank as Chase moaned into his mouth. House drew his tongue along Chase's bottom lip in a state of utter euphoria, reveling in the sporadic whimpers it drew from the younger man. His lips slanted across Chase's blush-ridden cheek to bury themselves in the dip just between Chase's neck and shoulder. He nipped his flesh, drawing a moan from the younger man, before laving his tongue over the reddening mark. House groaned and buried his forehead against Chase's shoulder, clutching the other doctor to him. His chest rose and fell as he panted, his fingers digging lightly into Chase's other shoulder.

"I need you to say it Chase." House's voice was calm, but wavered slightly with each breathy word.

Chase's own breath fluttered in a warm rush over the shell of House's ear. He grasped House to him as if trying to draw strength from him. When he spoke, his voice was just a whisper. House would have misunderstood him if he didn't already know what Chase was trying to say. After all, he needed the Vicodin, and Chase needed… Well, Chase needed…

"I need you."


End file.
